


can i lay in your bed all day

by gravitational



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 15:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitational/pseuds/gravitational
Summary: It's not Richie's fault that Eddie looks so damn perfect in the mornings.





	can i lay in your bed all day

**Author's Note:**

> 7\. Sleepy Sex - Richie / Eddie
> 
> "Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner" - Fall Out Boy

One of Richie's favorite things about the freedom to climb into Eddie's window and take up half of his bed whenever he wants is waking up beside him the next day. It used to be that he was the last to wake up, clinging to sleep as long as possible, but in the last few months, he's started waking up first, even though it destroys his will to live piece by piece... at least, until he looks over and sees Eddie, curled into him and sound asleep.

Their new morning routine started off innocently enough: Richie would move around until he was at least more comfortable than before, for the sole purpose of hugging Eddie closer to him and watching his boyfriend nestle into his chest. It's goddamn adorable, is what it is, and Richie's pretty sure he'll never get tired of counting the tiny freckles across the bridge of Eddie's nose while he waits for him to wake up, or the way Eddie will nuzzle into his collarbone and breathe out the tiniest little sigh when he finally starts to rouse.

If he's honest, he'll never get tired of anything Eddie does.

Richie isn't too sure how long it is before he begins to notice different things about Eddie in the mornings, but he's guessing it's pretty soon after his boyfriend agrees to sex for the first time. He's human, alright? It's not his fault that Eddie's skin always remains just a little flushed well after he drifts off, or that the marks he leaves low on his collarbone are usually visible, since Eddie tends to forgo putting a shirt on afterward. Why would he, when he passes out in the next few minutes? Richie sure isn't going to make him get dressed again, not when a naked Eddie is such a perfect view in the mornings.

There are some times when Richie will wake up to find Eddie already halfway on top of him, thanks to how much his boyfriend squirms around in the night. This is alright, really, except for the fact that it's so much harder to focus on _just_ his freckles when his eyes are so damn drawn to his kiss-bitten lips or the perfect curve of his ass, halfway visible where the sheets have fallen away. Their shared body heat means Eddie tends to give up on bedding pretty quickly, which isn't a problem until dawn arrives and Richie's left alone with his thoughts for a while before the younger boy ever stirs. Not just any thoughts, either - pretty damn specific thoughts, the kind that leave him more than a little worked up before long.

Really, it's a miracle that he lasted as long as he did before he started taking the mornings into his own hands.

He was careful about it at first, of course he was - God knew he didn't want Eddie to wake up and immediately get pissed off - but the temptation of that smooth, pale skin...

The first few days, Eddie kept sleeping through Richie's gentle exploration, evidently accustomed enough to his boyfriend's wandering hands that he saw no point in waking up while those hands were tracing along his lips, down his throat, his chest and arms and back, following the ghosts of bite marks and bruises left behind. Right at first, it was only when Richie's touch strayed lower, closer to his hips and thighs, that he would start to rouse, shifting against him and burrowing into him with a weary sigh. Richie, of course, took that as a good sign, but the first time he actually reached his ass, Eddie jerked into consciousness with his typical hyperattentive haste, demanding to know what was going on, and, well.

Richie kinda wanted to keep his dick.

That was far from enough to dissuade him, though, and it didn't take very long for him to notice that Eddie would let him get away with a little more each day, lasting longer before he finally muttered a "quit it" or "the fuck are you doing?" into his shoulder. Always the gentleman and ever concerned for his sexual future, Richie stopped immediately every time, but the very next time, he'd be right back at it again.

Honestly, he isn't sure when Eddie gives up entirely. All he knows is that one morning, Eddie rouses pretty quickly into his routine, but keeps quiet, face tucked into his neck and arms folded up between them, while Richie dares to go just a little further, dares to push the sheets down from where they'd been just barely hanging onto Eddie's hips. He's pretty sure he's holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable "fuck off," but it doesn't come - instead, Eddie is the one who moves first, hiking one leg up a little higher until it's hooked over Richie's own, making it that much easier for Richie to reach down and rub over his hole, still loose and damp from the night before.

"Y'know," Eddie mumbles, and Richie fucking jumps, preparing to be told off, "if you wanted to fuck me, you could've just said so this whole fucking time."

For a solid minute or so, Richie is quiet, trying to wrap his head around that. He's been blue-balling himself this entire time? "... Oh," he says at last, ever eloquent, and Eddie laughs against him, soft and drowsy. "I, uh... I didn't want to... pressure you?" he half-asks.

He can pretty much feel Eddie rolling his eyes.

"'m just tired, asshole," his boyfriend huffs, and he's yawning while he says it, as if he's trying to prove his point. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna say no. C'mon, are you gonna do anything?"

Oh. Right. Clearing his throat, Richie says cautiously, "Can, uh - can you roll over? It'll be - " He starts to say "easier," but Eddie is already rolling away from him, settling face-down just a couple of inches away with his pillow hugged tightly to his chest. "Easier," he finishes lamely, pushing himself up to his knees.

Eddie's watching him, he can see that now, half-lidded eyes just barely peeking out where he's turned his head to the side, although the rest of his face is still buried in the pillow. He looks... not exactly amused, but pretty close to it. "You're such a dumbass," he mumbles, but, mercifully, he leaves it at that. Richie isn't sure how many more insults he can handle right now.

"Yeah, whatever, I get it," he sighs, leaning over to grab the lube Eddie's been hiding in his nightstand drawer for a while now. He sits back on his heels, more than a little fascinated by the way Eddie's settled with his legs apart, one drawn up toward his folded arms, the other just resting there, the backs of his thighs begging to be marked up. Biting his cheek to keep his tongue in check, he slicks up his fingers and tosses the little bottle back into the nightstand, saying just to make sure, "You're not gonna freak out on me, right?"

"Richie," he mutters, and okay, yeah, he sounds a little testy now, "I swear to god, if you don't get on with it, I'm gonna go back to sl - _fuck - "_

One of the only proven ways to get Eddie to shut up is to distract him, and, well, Richie figures now's as good a time as any to go ahead and push two fingers inside him, privately marveling at the sheer lack of resistance - and at the way Eddie arches, his irritation evidently forgotten in that moment. Inwardly gloating, Richie settles more comfortably on his knees, a smug grin on his face as he takes in the sight. "Sleep?" he repeats, trying not to laugh.

Eddie makes a noise that sounds like it would be a curse at any other time, glaring back at Richie over his shoulder, but even as he huffs out something akin to Richie's name, he's steadying himself on the sheets, slowly relaxing around the not-unfamiliar intrusion. "Fuck off," he says at last, ever the hostile, but there's hardly any venom in his tone. "C'mon, hurry up."

It's not exactly begging, more of a thinly-veiled threat, but Richie chooses to take it as the former, slowly spreading his fingers apart as he pushes them in deeper, and yeah, that punched-out whine Eddie gives him in return is definitely a victory. He bites his lip to smother a smug grin, although it's quick to fall away into something akin to awe as he realizes he can still feel traces of himself, warm and wet inside the smaller boy. "Fuck, Eds," he breathes, crooking his fingertips and reveling in the way his body flinches, "bet you were drippin' with me last night, huh?"

There's a flush rising to Eddie's cheeks, barely visible when he turns to bury his face fully in the pillow in his arms. He doesn't answer, at least not until Richie works his fingers a little deeper, presses the tips against the little ball of nerves, and even then, his only response is a gasp, a sharp twist of his body to push back into the feeling. "Right there?" Richie croons, as if he doesn't know the answer already; it didn't take him long to learn Eddie's body inside and out. After only a moment's hesitation, Eddie nods, and Richie repeats the motion, watching with lust-dark eyes as his spine arches, a broken moan only barely muffled against the pillow.

"Quiet, baby," he warns, having at least the presence of mind to remember that Mrs. K is just downstairs. A sidelong glance at the clock shows they've got maybe an hour tops before she wakes up and comes in search of her son, no doubt to force him out of bed and straight to school. Only a few months ago, Richie would have never dreamed of waking up any earlier than strictly necessary to get to class, but now, he's got plenty of reasons. "Don't want your mom to hear, do you?"

Eddie gives a strained sound, shifting just slightly on the bed, and Richie's attuned to him enough to know that that's as good a sign to keep going as any. He leans down, steadying himself with his other hand on the bed so he can kiss the nape of Eddie's neck, right where there's a hickey from the night before. The new angle lets him crook his fingers more intensely, push them deeper into Eddie as he adds a third, and god, he'll never, ever get tired of the little moans his boyfriend tries to bury in the pillow. "You're beautiful," he whispers, and Eddie shudders, pushes his hips back that much harder, and while it's pretty clear that he doesn't intend to exert much effort right now, it's equally clear that he _wants._ "How d'you wanna do this, Eds? You wanna come like this?"

For a moment or two, Eddie is quiet, though his breathing is labored, becoming audibly even more so when Richie twists his hand, spreads his fingers wide and draws them nearly out. He bucks just the slightest when Richie thrusts them back in, setting the same slow, torturous rhythm he knows Eddie loves to hate. "Y - yeah," he murmurs at last, squeezing his eyes shut and biting back a groan. "Can't be - can't be limping when I leave."

Richie is far too human for that not to stoke his ego.

Laughing softly against his skin, he merely hums in response, kissing the faint bruise once more and sitting back on his heels. Eddie whines at the loss, and Richie's quick enough to reach for him, free hand settling on the back of his calf, the one drawn up high. "Just relax, baby, I've got you," he says, his voice low and soothing, and he can feel Eddie obey, going boneless against the sheets. "There we go, just like that... you just rest, okay? You're okay..."

He begins to lose track of the words he's saying, his focus on the way the tiniest of movements can draw out a quiet whine, on the way Eddie moans if he presses in that much deeper... the way gentle praise earns a low, pleading whimper of his name as he whispers it into his ear. For all that Eddie is achingly hard - the little jerks of his hips against the sheets give that away - it's obvious that he's just as caught in limbo, torn between slumber and arousal. Richie's pretty damn proud of himself that Eddie's choosing the latter. Watching him, barely even mobile, halfway hidden in the pillow, he can't help but wonder what this would be like if Eddie really was asleep...

... but that's an issue for next time, another thing to work his way toward. Right now, he's far too occupied, fixated on the subtle movements of Eddie's hips, on the tremble of his frame whenever he moves his hand just right. It doesn't take very long before that shudder becomes nearly continuous, before he can _hear_ the moans catching in his throat. "You close, darling?" he asks, startled by just how wrecked he sounds; it's only then that he realizes just how fucking hard he is, but he's not about to press. "C'mon, baby boy, go ahead..."

The pet name slips out unbidden, and for a second, he thinks he goes pale - but Eddie nearly _sobs,_ the next jerk of his hips even more intense than the last, and fuck, okay - okay. "You like that? You're doing so great, baby boy, c'mon... come for me, you can do that for me, can't you? You're being so good, Eds, c'mon..."

So yeah, maybe he's rambling, and maybe he has _no fucking clue_ what this implies, but it works - Eddie barely lasts another moment before he's falling apart, writhing back onto his hand with a cry that the pillow only barely muffles. Richie helps him ride it out to the best of his ability, in fucking awe at the way his body moves; only when Eddie finally goes limp does he pull his hand away, touch delicate and cautious on his sides. "There, that's it," he whispers, giving Eddie every chance to tell him "no" as he moves up to kneel beside him, running one gentle hand down his back. "You did great, baby, you're okay..."

Eddie is trembling under his hands, his breathing hitched and unsteady; when he turns his head enough to glance up at Richie, he looks dazed, completely wrecked... and yet, somehow, still just as drowsy as before. "Y - you really should've done this forever ago," he says finally, and Richie can't help but laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> More Kinktober? Yep. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments / criticism welcome.
> 
> <3


End file.
